


young gods

by recryption



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-20 01:14:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7385113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/recryption/pseuds/recryption
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in the beginning and at the end, you are who you are: stanford pines, the author of the journals, the genius in the pines family, the inventor with an affinity for the supernatural, and unwitting victim to bill cipher.</p>
            </blockquote>





	young gods

**Author's Note:**

> [ _he says oh baby girl you know we're gonna be legends / i'm the king and you're the queen and we will stumble through heaven / if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes / i know you wanna go to heaven but you're human tonight_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bUhJRQSs6UQ)   
>  [(on tumblr here)](http://recryption.tumblr.com/post/146887293934/young-god)

   In the beginning, there is Stanley Pines.

   He is smoking a cigarette on the pier. The white smoke from the end of it floats up into the air and dissipates in the early morning sky, the sun casting nearly-solid rays of light that reflect off of the buttons of his shirt and the edge of your glasses and the water shimmering below you. You are sitting next to him, in a thick coat and your cracked glasses that you still needed to get fixed, both of your feet dangling off the edge of the wood.

   “You know, research has been proving that cigarettes are extremely unhealthy,” you comment offhandedly, absorbed in your novel about - you’re not quite sure. You’ve been reading the words but processing next to nothing, and you flip back to the beginning of the book to maybe catch more than two words next time.

   “Eh, it’s okay. I’ve always been the bad kid in the family, isn’t that right, Poindexter?” Stanley Pines laughs, and stubs out the burning end of the cigarette on the splintering wood. If you didn’t know him any better, you would say that he was bitter about it - but his words are joking, and his laugh is genuine. You give a faint smile, not bothering to look up.

   Stanley soon gets up, and you follow, closing the book _(that you still haven’t processed)_ and slipping it away into one of the pockets on the inside of your coat. He immediately launches into a tirade about the people at school who still tease you for your sixth finger, despite how old you all are now, and there’s something mixed in there about your father and how he’s so - so - you don’t catch it, it’s lost in the river of words pouring out of his mouth. You’re lost in thought about your college plans, nodding along and barely actually listening.

   In the beginning, you are there. Stanley Pines is there. You would grin nervously and roll dice between your fingers and drop your pencils so frequently Stanley would call you “butterfingers” even though that’s a term he usually reserves for the people playing baseball on TV. Stanley would let the smoke from his lungs into the atmosphere and talk about the ship that one day you two would explore the world with.

   In the beginning, there is Stan And Ford and an ocean in front of you.

* * *

   In the beginning, there is yelling.

   It is loud. Your father is screaming and you are locked in your room under layers of well-worn blankets and holding a pillow over your head. Your glasses press into the edge of your face but you can barely feel it. Everything is too loud loud loud.

   What you do know consists of the following: what has happened, what you imagine Stanley is going through, the fact that the blanket and pillow are doing terribly at muffling the sound of your father and your brother, and that there are the sound of feet stomping up the stairs.

   What you don’t know consists of the following: what you feel about what happened, what you feel about Stanley and/or your father, and what Stanley would ever want with you now that his own dreams are accomplished and he’s successfully shunted you off of the path of success and science and West Coast Tech.

    _(he ruined your chances - he ruined your life - Ford, that doesn’t matter when he’s your brother - that doesn’t matter when he knew what you wanted and then decided his wants were more important!)_

   “Ford, let me in.” There are three loud bangs on your door and you jolt up before curling yourself up below your covers even more.

   “Ford!” The knocking increases in volume and pace. “I need to get the things I left in our room. Let me in!”

   You try to ignore the thunder-thunder-thunder of Stanley banging on the door. You’ve locked it. He can’t get in anymore. He can’t ruin anything anymore.

   “Sixer, please.” He sounds almost desperate and you almost laugh. It was a ploy, of course. He thinks that if he sounds pitiable enough that you’ll cave and welcome him back to your life with open arms. You curl your lip upon hearing your nickname in his voice. You never wanted to hear it again.

_(he ruined you! he ruined everything! you have the right to be angry!)_

   “Fuck you.”

   He walks away - he stomps away, and you can hear him shuffling and mumbling to himself at the bottom of the stairs as he puts on his shoes and slams the door and goes outside. From outside your window, you can hear the car engine starting up. You untangle yourself from your blankets to look at him outside.

   In the beginning, the light from your window pours out onto the lawn and into the street, illuminating Stanley and his beaten down car in yellow light. He looks up at you in anger - disgust - disappointment - sadness?

   In the beginning, you turn away and close the curtains and fall asleep thinking of what you can possibly make out of yourself now.

   In the beginning, you think about Stanley as the engine turns over and he drives away.

* * *

   In the beginning, you graduate from university.

   It was nothing much. Graduating top of the class from Backupsmore University was nothing compared to the prestige that graduating top of the class from West Coast Tech would’ve gotten you. Your university years were something, at least - Fiddleford McGucket, your best friend and an invaluable asset in your goals of discovering the paranormal, had promised to stick by your side as long as he was able. You had received a grant for a hundred thousand dollars. You were well on your way to twelve PhDs.

   Backupsmore University was nothing, but at the same time, it was everything.

   That night, you dream of your six fingers and a strange, triangular creature watching you - it never visibly moved, it never visibly spoke, it merely laughed and cackled and looked at you with this fire in its eyes like You Were The One.

    _(you had never been anyone’s The One before [not even stanley’s], and it excited you a bit, even if it was probably just a result of your desire for acceptance and a strange, happiness-induced dream.)_

   The creature gets closer with each breath you take, until it finally stops and stares right into your eyes with its one, and it laughs, laughs, laughs the loudest you’ve ever heard anyone - or anything - laugh.

    ** _GRAVITY FALLS_** , it whispers. **_GRAVITY FALLS._**

   The words echo echo echo in your mind and the next day, you are driving to a strange, forested town in Oregon called Gravity Falls, known for its paranormal activity and strange happenings, your hundred thousand dollar grant in tow and the creature’s laugh ringing incessantly in your mind.

   In the beginning, you are building a lab in Gravity Falls, the woods around you sighing with each wind that passes by. You go to the corner store and buy the first hardcover journal you see. The residents of the town are close to unmemorable _(you can still see a few faces in your mind’s eye, though - a young lady with one eye constantly closed, a red-bearded man with his wife, two men who seem to be around your age who are dressed in police uniforms and walk so closely together you’d say they were inseparable at the least)_ and skirt around you like the river around a stone.

   In the beginning, there is a gold handprint on a red journal. There are ideas buzzing in your brain like so many flies in a sealed jar. There is a whispering forest and a whole new world to explore.

* * *

   In the beginning, you are in Gravity Falls.

   To be exact: in the beginning, it has been six years in Gravity Falls.

   To narrow it down further: in the beginning, it has been six years of adventure, of discovery, of inventions and magical creatures and creations and _knowledge like you’ve always **craved**_ in Gravity Falls. It has been six years of finally being freed from the shackles of your classmates who didn’t believe in the supernatural and made strange looks at you from behind your back and teased you for your six fingers. It has been six years of the townsfolk treating your hands and your discoveries as normal, even Exciting, if it really was a strange enough sight. It has been six years of consistently waking up to gnomes at your window and chimeras at your front door. It has been six years in Gravity Falls of so much more than you could’ve ever imagined.

    ~~It has been six years without Stanley Pines.~~

   In the beginning, it has been six years in Gravity Falls, and you are stuck in a rut.

* * *

   In the beginning, you can’t make the dots connect. You have seen so much and gone through so many adventures, recorded so much knowledge and encountered oddities rivaling that of your six-fingered hand, and yet-

   It doesn’t make sense. You tear down a board of possible connections because none of it Connected, no matter how many “coincidences” you saw none of them Made Sense Together As A Whole, there’s Something you’re missing and you can’t tell what it is.

   You hear a sharp cracking noise.

   “Fuck.”

   You toss another broken pen on the ground behind you and quickly take out another one from your seemingly infinite pockets, not even bothering to uncap it and pretend to do work before you start chewing on it. God, it was a bad habit. There was a virtual sea of broken pens behind you and a virtual sea of questions in front of you.

   “Fuck!”

   You push over another board of yarn and paper and pushpins _(it clatters to the ground so loud loud loud and pins roll away onto the floor. you were going to step on those eventually but you could deal with them later.)_ because what does it matter, your conclusions weren’t logical and nothing made any fucking sense in this rundown town of ghosts and magic and gods and demons.

   You storm outside in your coat, another shattered pen left lying in the grass _(you promise yourself that you’ll pick that up later too)_ and a pencil this time between your canines. There had to be something you were missing and you were _**determined**_ to find out what it was, you were absolutely _ **furious**_ with how nothing made sense because Everything had an order, Everything had a place, Everything was all related and yet nothing in this damn town seemed to be.

   In the beginning, you are lost in a crowd of whispering trees with nothing but the spare flashlight you kept with you, your third journal, and a gnawed pencil in your mouth.

   In the beginning, there is a cave, an incantation, and a desperation in your mind.

* * *

   In the beginning, there is laughter. There is so much laughter it is nearly suffocating, and there is a triangular being with a singular eye and an aura of power surrounding his very form.

   Something in your mind stirs - you should remember this, but it lingers on the edge of your mind just out of reach. His very _existence_ feels like it’s part of a dream, like it’s something incorporeal, something that you could reach out and touch but your fingers would wisp through him like nothing was there. It’s a strange feeling, considering how _real_ Bill Cipher seems.

   He has an obnoxious laugh, a twisted sense of humor, a fundamental lack of understanding of how humans work, and yet he’s a muse nonetheless. He has a top hat and a bow tie and a cane and a look in his eye that glints of mischief and he looks at you like _You Are The One_.

_(you had never been anyone’s The One before, your mind reminds you.)_

   You sit down with a cup of tea in your hand and a chessboard in front of you and Bill Cipher reminds you to drink the tea before it gets cold. You always forget to drink your tea before it gets cold, and something in you wonders how Bill knew.

   “It’s easy!” He cuts off your question preemptively. “I _am_ only an all-knowing god of, well, knowledge, after all. And, as you’re the one I’m inspiring, I feel like it’s part of my duty to know about you, isn’t it, Sixer?”

   “Well, I _guess_.” Part of you melts at the familiar nickname, while the other half stiffens up and starts forming walls in your brain. Bill only laughs and moves a rook and just like that, he ruins your play.

   “Checkmate, Fordsy!” He cackles again and snaps the chessboard away. “See you in the waking world! I’ve got a little present for you that I’ve taken the liberty of sleepwriting on your desk.”

   With that, he’s gone, and you are awake, and there is a diagram drawn in red Sharpie on the kitchen table you fell asleep on and Everything Makes Sense.

* * *

   In the beginning, there is Bill Cipher.

   There is an interdimensional portal, and Fiddleford McGucket, and laughter and friendship and your weak _(but genuine)_ smiles whenever Bill draws smiley faces on your calculations to tell you that they were correct. There is possession and meditation and the feeling of elation you get when you realize that Bill’s finally succeeded in taking control of your body is overwhelming.

   There is a workroom filled with pyramid prisms, a statue in his name and image, tapestries you personally commissioned, there are geometric tattoos and runes etched in black ink up your back and a pledge of allegiance to your muse. There is dependency and trust and you felt that _this_ was it, _this_ was how it was like to be The One, _this_ was how everything was supposed to be and what everything in your life had led up to.

   Then there is a prophecy.

   Then Fiddleford McGucket has abandoned you. _(you tell yourself it wasn’t your fault, but something in you stirs in disgust at yourself, insisting that it Was your fault, you shouldn’t have just scared him away like the Idiot you are. it gets continually harder to deny these thoughts.)_

   Then there is a metal plate and blood and stitches and anesthesia so strong you knocked yourself out for days.

   Then you are making an anxious phone call to Stanley Pines, your own brother, someone you haven’t seen in years.

   In the beginning, there is an end, and you are scrabbling for some semblance of sanity among the wreckage of an interdimensional portal.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

   And at that end, there is Bill Cipher.

   At that end, there is Stanley Pines.

   At that end, there are three journals and a fight you don't quite remember and then there is finally _l  i  g  h  t_

**Author's Note:**

> [ _do you feel like a young god?_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bUhJRQSs6UQ)


End file.
